


Kismet

by Saucy (nyxnarciss)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Awesome Pepper Potts, BAMF Steve Rogers, BAMF Tony Stark, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Healing, Iron Man 1, Kidnapping, M/M, Marvel Universe, Nomad Steve Rogers, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Phil Coulson Has the Patience of a Saint, Pre-Canon, Protective Pepper Potts, Recovery, SHIELD, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers is Over It, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark is snarky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 18:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16434398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxnarciss/pseuds/Saucy
Summary: Captain America is pulled from the ice years before the attack on New York, decades out of time, and raging at the world he lost everything for. There were only two things he was completely certain of; He was done fighting and he wanted nothing to do with the Merchant of Death."The gym was deserted, fluorescent lights casting shadows down the empty halls,  rhythmic thumping and shifting feet the only sounds from inside. Though there was only one man inside, the waves of pain and frustration could have been enough for fifty men. The past six weeks had been a test of wills, and a kaleidoscope of discoveries, but Steve Rogers would have given all of the flashing lights and amenities for just one more day back home, one more day where things made sense. And isn't that the funny part. Home. Steve’s home was just down the street. The apartment he shared with his mom most of his life was a relic above some new trendy coffee shop. The diner he swept floors at back in ‘39 was torn down and a drug store with automatic doors and robot cashiers stood in its place. Steve was closer to home than he had been since before project rebirth and yet he felt like he had never been further away."





	1. The Man With No Heart And The Man Out of Time

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I would get this beast finished, if it wasn't for Shannon I know I would have never gotten through. She was an amazing Beta, an ever better friend and the worlds best cheerleader! <3
> 
> Written for the Captain America Big Bang 2018

Tony is not sure what woke him but he could feel the tell tale signs of a hangover sitting heavy behind his eyes. Everything seemed normal. Stretching his sleep addled limbs, feeling the sheets slide across his bare skin. All limbs were attached and no suspicious stinging that could be the tell tale signs of a drunken tattoo were found. Nothing seemed amiss but there was a nagging at the back of his mind, a pressure like something wasn't right, like someone was watching him. Laying still, Tony tried to regulate his breathing, relaxing one muscle at a time forcing himself to look like he was asleep, hoping to get a chance to reach for the gun hidden in his night stand. 

For seconds that dragged on in silence he laid there waiting for something to happen, listening for any noise that shouldn't be there. Jarvis should have woken him if there was an intruder but even he wasn't fault proof, not yet anyways. After a solid minute he started to slowly slide his hand out from underneath his pillow, reaching towards the nightstand. Straining his ears he could feel the sweat sliding down his brows. He was so close, scant inches away when he heard the sharp rustle of clothes shifting, felt the sharp stab of a needle in his arm and before he could even do more than flinch away everything went dark.

\-------

He came to in grey room covered in octagons from floor to ceiling. Somehow he was wearing pants and a loose stiff shirt but he had no recollection of how he got there, getting dressed or why his arm felt like he had been stabbed. His mind came online faster than his limbs; panicking, Tony tried to make sense of what had happened and what he should do next. The last thing he remembered was some red carpet event that Pepper had forced him to go to. He had drank, because of course he was going to drink as the piranhas of the upper west side pawed at him, and remembered something about an artist and a check. He had no idea, but knew he wouldn't hear the end of it from Pepper if he had done something idiotic or crass. After that he wasn't sure, flashes of a blonde, more drinks and his silk sheets came to mind, but he couldn't make it past the fog. 

Trying to think logically and take in the atmosphere around him he sucked in a deep breath and tried to wake his seemingly drugged limbs. He could hear the sound of an industrial air conditioner ratting to life and feel the icy breeze hit his unresponding limbs. The room smelled sterile and unused, musty like the chemical closet he stumbled into with one of his more handsy dates. Trying to work life back into his limbs he could feel the barbwire they were passing off as a bed beneath his back, the sharp springs stabbing into him motivated him to move almost as much as the realization he had been kidnapped. 

After 10 minutes of struggling to reawaken his heavy limbs and calm the panic in his mind he was able to sit up and look around. For being kidnapped this wasn't his worst accommodations. The last time he had been in the back of a van and had nearly annoyed his captors into dropping him in an alley. He wasn't so lucky but he had caused them to make a mistake and Tony was home before the 6 O’clock news even knew he was missing. Because of that and the lack of anything other than a deplorable cot, metal table and bolted down chairs, Tony was sure that this was a more professional setting than the last one. 

As if his captors were reading his mind, the door opened and a familiar petite blonde walked into the room carrying a file labeled “project rebirth”, and a down to business glare daring him to comment on the way they had met the night before, yeah that wasn't happening.

“Why, Ms.Vivian was it? It's so nice to see you in something other than my sheets.” He said all of this with a leer as he discreetly tried to work fine motor function back into his limbs. 

He knew project rebirth like it was his own skin. His father had dedicated so much of his life and focus to recreating that project and searching for the downed Valkyrie that Tony was surprised Howard even knew he existed. This wasn't the first time someone had questioned him about the highly classified project either; the last time it was the military using more brass than brains to attempt to intimidate Tony to talk. But this whole endeavor was too sophisticated for a military coup, they were more the type to smash and grab and less the ones to seduce, drug and kidnap. Stalling while he tried to think Tony did what he did best, he baited her.

“What do I owe the pleasure of your company, couldn't wait to have me all to yourself again? I have to say, the drugs and dumping may have been a bit extreme but who am I to judge your kinks.” Tony could see Vivian’s hackles rise, he was especially talented in pissing people off and through that getting the upper hand. “And I have to say, if you are into super soldiers you came to the wrong place. I'm more into super weapons--more metal, less man.” Finally feeling most of his strength return he rose gracefully from the cot and made his way over to the table where the woman had thrown the antique files and was seated glaring at him. “Not trying to recreate the super soldier are you? I think we all know how well that worked out last time.” As he took a seat she continued to glare at him, he could see the annoyance cross her brow but in a second it was there and gone before he could feel a sense of accomplishment. 

Reaching for the file in front of him, Tony began to leaf through the pages he was so familiar with. “No Mr. Stark.” she finally responded “As much as I am sure you would be delighted to live up to your father's name and talents,” she said this with a sneer as he tried not to let the flinch show, “we don't need you to recreate a super soldier. We just need you to wake one up.” 

\-------

 

Tony had died and gone to heaven, hours later he was surrounded by papers, files, photos and more information about Project Rebirth than he ever thought existed. The files he knew from his father’s office were nothing compared to the unclassified stacks now in his hands. He remembered searching his entire life for his dads notes on this project, had even broken into his office after the car crash, but only the basic files had been found, rudimentary information but nothing easily replicated. Tony assumed Howard had burned them after Elskin’s murder. No matter how much he begged, or searched, or tried to live up to his father's expectations, Howard had never uttered a word about the project other than to say that he wasn't worthy and that he was a lousy excuse for a son. Had told him he would never live up to the man who came out of the rebirth chamber. For his entire life Tony had been searching for them, for the man and the myth that he was raised to believe he was less than. He lost faith almost a decade ago after the last expedition, it was surreal that this unnamed organization had found him. And it was an organization.

Whoever they were, they were smart, competent and prepared. He had not been allowed a computer and had yet to see any electronics besides the camera embedded in the wall behind enforced glass. No, they only gave him a treasure map of his father's greatest achievements, and a request for information on how to resurrect a man frozen in ice nearly 70 years. No problem, all he had to do was run hundreds of calculations, imagine simulations without all of the specifications or JARVIS to find hidden problems and somehow return the bane of his existence to his former glory, no problem indeed. 

Tony wasn't sure where to start. He had read through the files time and time again with limited success. He understood his father's part in the transformation from twig to Adonis, but without the help of a chemist or biologist, he was making assumptions when it came to Elskin’s chemical compound they shot into Steve Rogers’ veins. No matter how much he explained this to the aforementioned blonde, no additional information or assistance came. He saw no one but her and wasn't even sure how long he had been in the gray box, surly long enough for someone to realize he was missing.

Tony was beyond frustrated; he had gone past the point of trying to come up with possibilities or solutions, and was just rereading the account from Rogers’ perspective, squinting in the dull lights shining from above when it hit him. 

“Hey agent Blondie, care to turn up the lights? Not all of us need 8 hours of sleep….” he stopped mid sentence, eyes blown wide and Rogers’ handwritten note crumpling beneath his hands. The lights, the lights were the key not the chemicals. Steve Rogers was injected with all of the serum he would need to bulk up, to fight and to survive the ice for 70 years. He didn't need anymore drugs flowing through his system, he just needed to lights to recharge the chemicals, to reawaken them. If you reawaken the chemicals, light caused combustion, combustion will push the blood to flow, blood flow means oxygen and oxygen means life. 

All of those brain dead wannabes probably had the right chemicals but were using the wrong kind of light. Tony sprang to his feet, running full speed to the door still clutching the notes and started pounding on the door. Tony couldn't hide the wonder and the smugness he could feel bubbling inside of him. He just kept banging on the door enraptured by the breakthrough and itching to get his hands dirty. There were dozens of equations and plans flowing through his head now, an entirely new light chamber being built in his mind. Getting frustrated with the locked door and smugly admitted his discovery to the cameras at the back of the room. He would make it bigger and better than it ever was, he would be the one to wake the legend. With that thought he heard the lock click open behind him, swinging around to heckle the two faced Blonde he came face to face with a professional looking man with sandy blond hair and a demure smile. Without taking a step in the room the man spoke, “Thank you for your time Mr. Stark. Your services will no longer be needed.” Outraged, Tony started to interrupt and demand answers but the man in front of him just nodded his head, turned, and closed the door again. Annoyed, Tony started to prepare himself for a rant of the ages when he heard the sudden hiss of air and saw the colorless smoke start to pour from the air vent above. “Fuck!” he yelled, but before he could do anything else, everything went dark. 

The next thing he knew he was waking up alone again, bruised arm and head feeling like it had been attacked by a giant bee, naked in his own bed. He could hear his phone beeping beside his pillow but the fogginess that pressed down on his brain stopped him from responding, feeling like he had just had the most intense dream. Tony had done more drugs than he could name; psychedelics, alcohol, weed, but nothing had left him feeling so out of depths with a black spot in his memory.

He laid there prostrate in his pain and confusion til the beeping of his phone became too persistent to ignore.

“Tony?” He heard Pepper’s voice too loud and with an edge of desperation floating out of the phone. “Mph” he responded without opening his eyes. “Tony, you need to be in Las Vegas 2 hours ago. Are you planning on attending this ceremony or should I tell them you aren't coming?”  
“What? That conference isn't until next Saturday, Pep.” She must be confused. Tony rubbed his eyes feeling an epic migraine creeping in behind his eyes. “Tony, it’s Saturday. Did you lose track of time in the shop again?”  
Ignoring her last question, Tony sat up like he had been shocked; the screaming pain and nausea hit him a second later. How could it be Saturday? “Tony are you there?” Pepper continued. “I’m going to have Happy come pick you up in 30 minutes. Make sure you have an appropriate suit or you know Obadiah will never let you hear the end of it.” With that she hung up with a click and Tony was left sitting in the dark clutching his phone realizing that the vivid dream might actually be a memory. 

 

\----  
The last thing Steve remembered before everything faded to black was the ice shredding his veins like knives, tearing through his chest, feeling like every extremity was being torn off before going numb and unresponsive. The last thing he saw was the blue of the ocean surrounding him, shining through from the light of the weapon at his back. Then all he knew was cold and darkness.  
But now, now there was fire. Fire through his veins, air choking him hot as coals rushing through his destroyed throat. Waking up was more than a surprise but it was quickly forgotten next to the screaming in his mind, the pain he never thought he would feel again and the longing for death that clung to every bead of sweat he could feel racing across his skin. His body thrashed against his command and every move felt like hot pokers under his skin, like molten lava coursing through his veins and seeping into his muscles. 

The jerks and thrashes were painful but the iron like vices around his burning muscles imprisoned him in his suffering. It felt like hours that the pain and the blinding hot light surrounded him, sank into him and burned him alive. He didn’t know how long it lasted, but he realized the screaming wasn’t in his head it was coming from himself. The screaming was tearing from his lungs, shredding his vocal cords and he could feel the blood well in his mouth. Could feel the damage he was causing but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t swallow the pain, couldn’t muffle the screams. For what felt like millennia he screamed and thrashed, tortured in this prison of light, then everything went black.

 

\--------

The gym was deserted, fluorescent lights casting shadows down the empty halls, rhythmic thumping and shifting feet the only sounds from inside. Though there was only one man inside, the waves of pain and frustration could have been enough for fifty men. The past six weeks had been a test of wills, and a kaleidoscope of discoveries, but Steve Rogers would have given all of the flashing lights and amenities for just one more day back home, one more day where things made sense. And isn't that the funny part. Home. Steve’s home was just down the street. The apartment he shared with his mom most of his life was a relic above some new trendy coffee shop. The diner he swept floors at back in ‘39 was torn down and a drug store with automatic doors and robot cashiers stood in its place. Steve was closer to home than he had been since before project rebirth and yet he felt like he had never been further away. 

The first couple weeks they had tried to keep him in doors, tried to limit his intake of this new century. They said he shouldn’t overwhelm himself but Steve found new ways to break out every other day, through the trash shoot on one memorable day. The last time he’d got out they found him six hours later. Someone let it slip that Peggy was still alive and they found him at her bedside while she slept. Peggy had recognized him when he first showed up but after the agents burst into her room, she hardly knew him. For the first time in almost two weeks they didn’t have to force him back to headquarters; he felt the ice carved deep into his chest the whole ride back.  
The next day he had a new set of keys, an apartment 3 blocks away from the docks where Bucky worked before the war, a stocked fridge and hundreds of books published over the last seventy years.

Maybe they thought the freedom would help him settle, maybe they were right, but their idea of freedom came with a lot of restrictions. Every day at 9am an unmarked black SUV would pull in front of his door and escort him to headquarters, and every day they would ask him a million questions about things he didn’t know the answer to. Monday through Friday like clockwork he would be sent to a stuffy back office to learn edited lessons from the last 70 years.  
He knew better though, he grew up in the thirties and forties and knew that history was written by the people holding the bigger stick. He knew their facts weren’t right, knew that they sugar coated it, handled it and him with kids gloves. Handled him like he was a bomb ready to explode. Maybe he was? 

But he saw the carnage first hand, saw the POW facilities, the burnt remains of the camps in the forests of Austria. Once right before the train, the commandos stumbled upon a still smoldering pit of a grave, the smell of ash and the pain of those lost was thick in the air, Steve remembers vomiting through tears with Bucky silently at his back. That's how they knew they were fighting for the right side, they would never fight for a nation that spread casualties so easily through civilians. 

And that was the catch, wasn't it? They had been so sure back then that they were fighting for the right side, the morally centered side, but apparently a few years after going into the ice his own country and his own friend designed and used a weapon that killed thousands of civilians. It made Steve sick to think about. That America was the one who had internment camps after the war, that they locked people up just like the enemy did. That everything they had fought for and died for was still happening.

Nothing about that was in his weekly lessons at headquarters though; all they told him was that they had won, but they didn’t tell him at what cost. He found that out himself. Even after they set him loose and gave him the apartment in Brooklyn, there was still one thing they tried to keep him from, but it was the one thing that came free to everyone nowadays. The internet was a giant, confusing, colorful, awful place. There was so much to read and learn, he could see the decadence of this society, could see the glitz and glam of history, but he couldn't find the truth. It didn't take him long to realize that there was some sort of wall or block on the internet in the apartment, even he could tell they were monitoring him and he didn't even really understand what the internet was at that point. Now, most nights after a failed attempt at sleep would find him sneaking out of his own home and going to the gym to sweat out the frustration or hiding in the corner of the trendy cafe under his mama’s old apartment, trying not to drown in the sorrow. 

The more he learned, the angrier he grew; the anger spread through him like ice in his veins, like the waves from the ocean licking at his heels. The cold seeped into his bones as he sweat through his shirt; even the heated gym couldn’t hold back the frost.

He shifted his back foot after the hit, he had to hold back his strength.  
He wanted to go home. 

Cocked his head to the side and shifted again. He couldn’t let it out.  
The chains rattled and the sound of sand shifting rang through the gym.  
Was it all worth it?  
His hands were on fire, but the ice kept racing through his veins. Was the cost worth the reward?  
Bucky was gone, everyone was gone…  
Fuck this.

The bag ended up across the floor, sand spilling out from the rip smeared with blood. Steve couldn't hear anything above the blood rushing in his ears, his heavy breathing and the screaming in his head. All he could see was the train and the photos somebody at headquarters scrounged up. He saw the faces of the Howling Commandos smiling at him, faces he would never get to see again. 

“Trouble sleeping?” Steve turned to see Nick Fury sauntering out of the shadows. Shaking his head he started to undo the blood stained wraps on his hand. “You here with a mission sir?” without even sparing a glance he continued to unwrap his hands feeling the ice seep into his fingers.  
“I am,” Fury responded; he was cold and calculating. Steve had never seen him show an ounce of emotion that wasn't cold or fittingly enough, furious. Huffing a quick laugh the soldier snarked back. “Trying to get me back into the world?” Fury didn’t even blink at his tone.  
“Maybe, but I think the world could use a little bit of your red white and blue.” Steve turned and stared at the man across from him, the ice thick in his throat and bleeding through his veins.

After taking a deep breath to center himself, Steve responded, “No offense sir, but this isn’t the country I swore to protect. My country wouldn’t drop atomic bombs and kill thousands without a thought. My country fought against concentration camps, they didn’t create them. I fought so that we could be free and all I see is a bunch of spoiled civilians who forgot what they fought for and what it was like to believe in something. I haven’t seen one person who believes in honor or justice, just a whole bunch of politicians who let good people suffer. If you have something strictly non-combat, I think I owe Peggy enough to stick around, but I won't fight for you.” 

He finished with a snap, could feel how stiff he was, and could see the tension and anger rolling off of Fury like a tidal wave. A wave that Steve had seen lesser men break under, but he stood strong, never wavering, not even blinking. 

After what felt like an eternity, Steve could see the skin creased in the directors face. “Fine then Captain Rogers, you don’t want to fight for us then we'll find something else for your ass to do.” Steve knew better than to flinch, the man was trying to aggravate his ‘delicate’ sensibility. Everyone had been tip toeing around him since he woke up, like he didn’t grow up in the forties and died fighting with the commandos.  
“Coulson,” Fury yelled. “I found you a new protege, get him to sign your collectibles then get him onto your team.” With one final look, Fury spun out of the room black coat billowing as a sandy haired man stepped out of the shadows to greet Steve.

The ice started to recede as the man reached out his hand. “Phil Coulson, sir. It's an honor to meet you, Captain Rogers.” Steve shook his hand, impressed, a firm handshake, consistent eye contact and polite. Maybe he had made the right decision. “It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Coulson. You can call me Steve.”

“Well Steve,” Coulson responded with a slight smile “We’re going to have to get you a new suit; your last one won’t quite work for this job.”

\----------------

The cheap cheeseburger tasted better than anything he could remember eating. The only thing that could make it better would be if everyone around him would just quit talking, quit panicking, could just…..quit. He would never miss the cave, but with the lights and sounds, so much chaos around him, Tony couldn’t seem to get his brain to settle and keep his thoughts on track. He knew what he needed to do, he knew he had a mission and that no one would understand, but dammit he needed a minute--a minute of eyes not boring holes into him, an hour with no poking and prodding, an hour to just breathe and to not feel like he was suffocating in the world around him. 

He knew he wouldn't get it though. Pepper and Rhodey were trying to help, trying to get him to go to the hospital to make sure he was really okay, but he couldn’t go.  
They didn’t understand, would never understand.  
He couldn't let anyone know about the secret carved into his chest. It couldn't be helped, they’d only slow him down. No one could help him, he was alone. After this he would need to build a better reactor, a clean reactor; this one couldn't have much life left in it, not after the fighting in the cave. He doesn’t think he will ever get used to it, used to the pressure and the weight pressing down on his sternum. 

Tony feels like he hasn't had a clean breath since before he woke up. The area around the reactor had healed into gnarling scars, red, raw and throbbing. There had been a little Plexiglas mirror on the plane, the reflection looking back at him was so different than the one he remembered. But he was different now, he had to be. Tony wouldn't allow this to keep happening, couldn’t let his stupidity, his arrogance continue to hurt people, to kill innocents. 

\-------

The press conference was the easiest and the hardest he had ever had to give. For the first time he wasn't playing a part, reading some convoluted script or pretending he was something he wasn't. This time he put everything on the line and it felt like the first layer of guilt was swept away with his decision. The few seconds it took to breathe, for Obi to react, were like an eternity where he just felt free. Felt like for the first time in his entire life he wasn't being smothered by the expectations and responsibility of the Stark name. It didn't last long. 

When he first stepped up to the podium he looked out onto the crowd around him--familiar faces, even if he had never seen them before. Every single one of them had the look of expectation and ice in their veins. The same dagger sharp look of judgement. They all knew who he was, most of them probably thought he got what he deserved; God knows Tony felt like he did. So many faces staring into him but never getting past the surface, so many faces...except for one.

Tony wasn't sure if he was even real; maybe he was still trapped in the cage and this was all some fever dream, a hallucination when he was desperate for some hope. But the face standing above all of the rest, the eyes that seemed to look straight into his soul and find him lacking he couldn't imagine even in his wildest binge or his lowest fever dreams. The man was dressed like thousands he’d seen before, suited and arms crossed like a shield. His suit he wore like armour and he a warrior in an uncertain battlefield. His face a mask of cynicism and a hint of fragility. Tony was sure he had never seen the other mans face before but something inside him seemed to slide into place, like a destiny realized or an old forgotten friend found once again. 

It was just a moment, but when the man's eyes met his, Tony was hit with every ounce of disgust he himself felt about himself to his very core. First the man stiffened in shock, brow furrowed and lips parting in question but then he stiffened, his gaze hardening and his entire body never moving but Tony could see every muscle tense. And just like that, Tony remembered everything he was, everything he did and everything he couldn’t be. The sharp metal pressing into his skin like a corruption marking him the merchant of death.

 

\----- 

This wasn't his first assignment with Coulson, but it was his first time having to face someone from his past while on the job. If he could have, Steve would have avoided Howard’s son for the rest of his life. All he had heard and read on him seemed like a disgrace to his father's name. Steve had never been close friends with Howard, but the man had pulled him out of more scrapes than he could count and had been there when he needed to keep his squadron safe. Steve doesn’t think he could recognize anything in the younger Stark that would remind him of Howard, but then he guesses he didn't really know Howard if the stories about him developing the atom bomb were anything to go on. He never would have believed that the confident inventor would be involved in something like that, let alone build his entire life on the backs of those who suffered. Maybe his son really isn't that far from his image as Steve thought. 

All Steve knows is that two days ago, every newspaper and website was filled with Tony Stark, brilliant inventor, playboy, millionaire; there weren't even enough words to describe him. The man who was thought to be dead, rescued three months later. Steve had read every article that came across his computer screen, heard the gossip at headquarters, made up his mind without needing to know the man. Honestly Steve didn't even know there was a Stark heir, let alone one that had been kidnapped shortly after he had come out of the ice. But then again Steve was awake three days when he was taken,still locked up for his own good, still being spoon fed half truths. How was he to know? Maybe they thought he would have done something stupid. Stolen a plane, crossed enemy lines and stolen him back. Maybe they thought they knew him better than they really did, still thinking he was the man who left 70 years ago. Maybe once he would have, maybe once he did. But now? Now he’s lost everything, lost every connection and he felt like a very different person than the one who jumped out of that plane. 

Steve wasn't sure it would do any good even if he had. Even if he risked it all for some stranger, some man with familiar eyes and a sharp smile. The man was Howard's son, the largest weapons dealer in the world and Steve owed him and his name nothing, not anymore.

Seeing him in person was a much different story. The room and the suit were stifling. Coulson had said he would need a new suit but he felt like this one was more constricting than the suffocating leather he had sweat and bled in before. Steve wasn't sure he would ever get used to the black suit, with the blue paisley tie slowly strangling him as he was surrounded by closed off faces and tense personnel. Steve was just there to observe, to see and learn how his CO handled a debriefing but from the sight of the red headed woman shutting down any discussion, Steve wasn't learning anything today. As the conversation continued to circle the drain he found himself watching the crowd. Every person around him was so consumed in themselves, each stuck on their phones and tablets, it was like he was alone in a room filled to bursting. 

He had never liked crowds; before the serum he always felt trapped and oppressed never being able to get clean air. But now, now he feels even more like a pariah in their midst. Looking out over all of them he felt the ice licking at his fingertips. Seeing all of the people he felt disconnected--all of the faces around him and he felt so lost, so cold. But then there was warmth, familiarity and wonder. In a split second he felt like he could breathe for the first time since he woke up. For only a second he saw familiarity, soft brown eyes, and wonder. He had seen these eyes before, seen them a long time ago now but felt like almost yesterday when he stared into the eyes of Howard Stark fighting over strategy and battle plans. In the next second Steve sucks in a breath cold as ice, schooling his features and forcing himself to look away. He wasn't here for that; he had a job to do. He wouldn't be sucked back in and tricked again. 

Steve knew how it would go--what he had seen from this century so far had confirmed it for him. Anthony Stark was nothing like him. He was a cold capricious man who would use this incident to gain traction, to prove to the world that they were more in need of his weapons than had ever been before. It was a smart business plan, they would never be beat.

But once he started to speak Steve was blown away. Every word out of his mouth was bleeding with a hint of mania, of uncertainty. “I… I had my eyes opened.” the other man admitted to the crowd. Steve watched as the other man staggered to his feet, a sense or resolve straightening his stooped shoulders. “I came to realize that I have more to offer this world, than just making things that blow up. And that is why, effective immediately I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries.” Steve could see the commitment and the fire in the other man's eyes. As the room exploded around him, Tony stood firm and Steve felt like his world, his perception had been completely turned on its head. Before he even finished Stane was pressing him to stop talking but Steve heard every word, every promise from the other man.

“Until such a time as I can decide, the future of this company will be, what direction it will take, what I'm comfortable with, and is consistent with the highest good of this country as well.” In the next second the crowd parted as Tony strode through their midst, no one listening to Stane, still yelling question after question as the Stark heir swept through the room like royalty. It was in the last second before he disappeared that once again Steve’s eyes met the other man’s. It was brief and fleeting, but he felt like he could see fire dancing through the other man's eyes. Steve had been so sure, had been so dead set against allowing himself to feel anything in this age that he didn’t realize he was missing out on so much good and rightness fighting back against the selfishness and greed of the times. This man tipped his perception of the future and this new world around him. 

Hours later and miles away Steve still felt like he was in that press room, still felt the ice licking at his fingertips but for the first time since he came out of the ice he felt like he had an ember in his chest warming him from the inside out.


	2. The Spy And The Fool

It was the barely recognizable smirk on Coulson's face as he handed over the new assignment that made Steve’s hackles rise. For the past few months, he had mostly been shadowing Coulson and catching up on the last 70 years. But after a particularly boring incident in lower Manhattan Steve had requested a few more responsibilities to break the monotony. Steve quickly began to regret that choice after seeing the look on the other man’s face.

“Is this punishment Agent Coulson?” Steve asked turning his chair to look at the other man fully. With a slight lift of his lips Coulson replied “It's Phil when we aren't in the field and why would I ever punish you Steve? Did you knock out a senator or burn the coffee again.” Steve rolled his eyes because he had only burned the coffee twice, and he had only  
to knock out the idiotic homophobic senator. He had self control, sometimes, but that was beside the point. Coulson still liked to remind him as often as he could that he was once denied access to the break room for a week, but...

“I'm just wondering why you are lit up like a kid on Christmas, Agent?” he quipped back using the man's title knowing that it annoyed him. Coulson could ask until he was blue in the face but Steve wasn't about to stop teasing him. The other man huffed and gestured at the file on Steve’s too small desk.  
“I thought you would enjoy your first undercover gig. I hope you have a tux in that monochromatic wardrobe of yours,” Coulson said with a hint of glee in his voice. With that Steve could feel all of the blood drain from his face as he scrambled for the file as Phil turned away with as much of a smile on his face as he ever seemed to manage. “Better break out your dancing shoes too kid.” he called out over his shoulder as he sauntered away. Steve just stared at his retreating form in disbelief for a long moment before he flipped open the file, despairing as he saw the Invitation for the Stark foundation gala and the black and white photo of the man who had been haunting Steve since that press conference months ago. 

And now he was supposed to not only potentially see the other man again but to pretend to be like him, to fit into the upper society. Steve was just a street kid from Brooklyn; he didn't know how to be a socialite, how to schmooze and cajole people into giving him information. He had always just used his smart mouth until the serum and then his size or fists did the trick after. He knew he could get the tux with no problem, but for the rest he was going to need some help. Coulson had introduced him to a tailor who could get him situated with little problem but as for the rest, he had no clue. Well, he would have to go see the best then wouldn't he? It had been too long since he’d seen Peggy, this seemed like a perfectly good opportunity to go see his one link to the past; she would know what to do. 

\--------

It had been months of dead ends and run around from Stark Industries before Steve got another glimpse of the infamous Stark heir. Although happenings in Afghanistan and Stark’s abduction were not the only cases he had, they were the ones Steve couldn’t seem to walk away from. Something about the look in Tony’s eyes and the passion in his admission months prior haunted the ex-soldiers every waking moment and sometimes even his non-waking.  
Dreams of Howard and the life he once had featured in his nightmares almost daily, but more and more, the sharp wit and never ending leer of Howard turned into the dark flames in his son's eyes. Many nights Steve has stayed up with thoughts of the man he never wanted to know, the man who made life seem like it might be worth fighting for. 

And now tonight of all nights, after the other man hadn’t been seen in public since his epic return to SI, he showed up on the night Steve was out of depth. Of course it would be the night that Coulson had forced him into a tuxedo and had him practice his undercover skills in a room full of New York's rich and powerful. It's not that Steve needed to be undercover for this assignment but Coulson deemed it good practice and a learning experience. No amount of bribery and cajoling had convinced Coulson that Steve had changed his mind about the additional responsibilities.  
And as it would be, the night had been a mess. So far Steve had felt out of place, suffocated by the bow tie around his neck and Mrs. Jenkins from the upper east side had pinched his butt… twice. 

It was around an hour into the Gala when the management of Stark Industries started to arrive. He had seen Ms. Potts first thing when he walked in--always the first to come and last to leave even when the board couldn't make a point to be on time to their own event. In the past hour Steve had been using his time as wisely as he could, practicing his small talk and pulling mostly insignificant information from the Elite with the tricks Coulson taught him and the sweet talking techniques he remembers watching Bucky use. Before the serum talking to anyone was a struggle but now his size, charming smile and endearing eye had gotten him more than his loud mouth and wane stature ever had. 

His efforts had born fruit, but the information was less than productive. Mrs. Roberts was very concerned for her husband’s gout; Ms. Philips knew way too much about other people’s bed partners and affairs. The debutantes wearing slinky dresses and already three glasses deep in the champagne believed that Tony Stark had run away to his private island and ‘No he will not be showing up to the Gala’. Mrs. Jenkins’ husband was away on business and wouldn’t Steve be a dear and come over to fix the leak in her sink some time, and even more than Steve ever wanted to know about the people who came to these kind of things. Out of everything the fact that Tony Stark wasn't expected tonight was the only piece of credible information he’d gotten. 

Tugging on the cuffs of his tux Steve tried to center himself and looked around the room for the ever elusive Agent Coulson. If Stark wasn’t going to show then they needed to try to corner Ms. Potts again. Maybe this time tell her they would be meeting instead of asking for an appointment; Coulson could be great at being democratic but sometimes Steve couldn't see his reasoning. As he looked around he couldn't lay eyes on Coulson but he did catch Mrs. Jenkins’ eye and could see her revving up for another ‘accidental’ butt grab when a whisky deep voice called out from behind him. 

“You look like you are about to be eaten alive.” Surprised that anyone could sneak up on him even in a crowded room, Steve turned and looked into the eyes of the host himself. Tony cocked a smile holding a drink in one hand and reaching out with the other. “I'm not sure we’ve met yet, I'm Tony and you look like you are in need of a rescue from some of the more handsy guests,” he said with a nod in Mrs. Jenkins’ direction.  
Steve was in shock, blinking to make sure this wasn't a dream. It took him longer than it should to reach out and take the other man's offered hand, offering his first name. “I uh.. I appreciate the intervention Mr. Stark,” he finally said when the other man let go of his hand. “I didn’t realize philanthropy was a full contact sport.” The brunette laughed into his drink as Steve realized what he said and could feel the dusting of a blush across his cheeks. 

“It’s Tony and I guess that's one way to think about these kind of events,” he said with a wide smile. “Tell you what, no rich old bat can feel you up if you're dancing with me. What do you say?” As he finished the sentence, he dropped the tumbler gently on a passing tray and held out his hand once again to Steve in question.  
Steve couldn't believe a second of what was happening, seconds before he was ready to throw in the towel for the night thinking that they wouldn't get any viable intel and the next Tony Stark, the man himself, was offering him a dance. With a quick look around for Coulson, Steve raised his hand and accepted the dance. He tried to tell himself it was for the mission but the soft smile on the other man's face when their hands touched lit a fire in him burning the ice buried under his skin. 

As Tony led him onto the floor he was brought back to the memory from so long ago for most but seemingly only a few months ago for Steve. It was of another bold enough to ask him to dance, of another time he felt so out of depth but had felt so right at the same time. Though they were so different from each other, and Tony still such a stranger to him, Steve couldn't help but feel a similar connection to him and his last lost dance partner. 

Peggy and Steve had finally gotten their dance, seventy years too late and bittersweet in the care home the last time he visited, but it was nothing like this. His assumption had been right and she had been delighted to fulfill his request. He had thankfully visited on one of her more lucid days and he would never forget the ringing in her laugh after he sheepishly admitted his problem. Once she had calmed down the demand for a dance wasn't far behind. Their turn around the small makeshift dance floor was more like a shuffle with old dead singers trilling from the radio in the corner. Even 70 years later, an entire lifetime of surviving of living and creating Peggy still smelled the same, and her laugh could still warm him to his core. 

It hadn’t lasted long but the time they spent twirling around her small room had been all about saying goodbye to his past, of starting to say his goodbyes to a woman he dreamed of spending his whole life with. It was bittersweet and final but so needed. With Tony's hand warm in his and the crooked smile on his face as he twirled across the room, Steve felt like he was taking his first real breath in months. 

\-----

Tony couldn't believe his luck when he saw the tall stranger from the press conference again. He really had meant to just come show his face, get the board and the public off his back and maybe do a little friendly quipping at Pepper for not inviting him to his own event but after catching sight of the other man he couldn't pass up the chance. He had been in no mindset to work out the logistics of the crowd, the metal bomb in his chest and being on American soil again so many months ago at the press conference but now seeing the other man here wrapped in a fitted tux and so obviously out of his element, Tony couldn't resist. 

Something about the man rang like a fire alarm in his psyche but Tony couldn't figure him out. He was like a puzzle and Tony could never resist breaking records and solving the unsolvable. The other man moved like he was trapped in a stranger's skin. Though he hid it well, Tony wore a mask almost his whole life, it wasn't hard to see the other man's frayed edges. He moved like a snake through the water, elegant and powerful but his smiles were all forced, the way he clutched the iced down drink in his hand showed his uncertainty. Tony was surprised the man hadn’t come apart at the seams and wasn't even sure if the other man knew how tightly he was wound. 

The dance they shared opened up the door to a whole new man in front of him. The man; “Steve, just Steve”, seemed to melt with every turn they took and his smile, though never full and carefree, lit his eyes like an ocean at sunset. How cliche could Tony get, he had only known the man for 10 minutes and he was already writing sonnets about his eyes. He really had been locked in the workshop too long. 

As they danced they talked softly to each other, sharing smiles and in Steve’s face carrying a gentle blush. They never shared anything more personal than their names, pleasantries from the night and playful jibes but Tony was beyond impressed that the other man held his own. Steve didn't try to flirt or prostrate himself on Tony, he didn't seem to be anything but genuine,the real deal.

Though the other man was taller, he let Tony guide his movements across the floor, clearly not a beginner but not confident enough to do much else. Instead of being amused with the other man's uncertainty, Tony was impressed by his willingness to learn without a macho attitude or any overcompensation. Most men of his stature always seemed to have the ‘gym guy’ attitude, threw around their size and power like they had something to prove, but not Steve. He gave off a kind and caring persona, willing to learn, to take in the world around him. 

\-----

Being with Tony was distracting; Steve almost forgot how uncomfortable he was before the other man invaded his space, his every thought. When the second dance began, reality started to slip back in. The change in tempo and the tapping of Tony’s strong fingers along the base of his back seemed to make all of the noise in the room come rushing back to him. When before it was just Tony and him, now Steve could feel the eyes of nearly every person in the room on him. The warmth and comfort that he felt for those endless minutes quickly leached out of him and was replaced with a sense of dread. His hands grew clammy where one was clutched in Tony’s hand and the other resting against the man's side. 

Seemingly sensing the change in his demeanor, Tony's hand clutched briefly in Steve’s jacket and Steve watched his head cock to the side in question. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” he quirked with a grin and slid his eyes around the room. Steve paused briefly to think of an answer that wouldn't blow his cover and he let Tony continue to guide him around the room. 

Finally steeling himself he replied, “No, no I always dance with the guest of honor at the biggest party of the year and forget to wear deodorant.” This made Tony laugh out loud, a brief loss of control that seemed to startle Tony as much as it had Steve. Reining himself back under control he said, “Well you look great and you smell great.” Tony drawled as Steve rolled his eyes and looked to the ceiling with a laugh of his own. “You’re ridiculous Tony.” Steve still couldn't believe he was dancing let alone tossing jokes and insults with Howard's son, the son who was nothing like the man but was more like him than he could ever explain. 

“How about a little air? Maybe a drink or two and then we can go get some air,” Tony said suddenly taking a small step back from Steve but not letting go of his hand just yet. The sudden movement and change had Steve’s mind stumble momentarily. He continued to be astounded by the man in front of him. Not a thing had changed in the past few moments but he felt like he could see straight into the soul of the man in front of him. The man who had seemed to put down all of his shields and continued to stare up at him bare and peaceful waiting for Steve to catch up with some secret only he knew. 

Steve admitted to himself that getting out of this crowd was a good idea, he didn't know what had ever possessed him to think that this was something he should volunteer for. After this he wasn't sure that undercover was right for him but the possibility of an escape with Tony sounded like a dream come true. Steve felt some of the tension bleed from his bones just staring at Tony as the others danced around them, he smiled at the other man nodding and pulling him backwards towards the bar. The crowd seemed to split around them, proving to Steve that he really was being watched and he could feel his palms clench around Tony's and knew the other man could feel the tension bleeding off of him. 

Steve felt like his collar was tightening and choking him before they even reached the bar. Tony must have seen it in his face, felt it in Steve's hand still clutched in his. Taking control of the situation he took the lead and started guiding Steve to the bar instead of the other way around. Reached it he never let go of the bigger hand clutched in his until there was a cold drink replacing his hold. Steve felt nothing but a sense of relief holding the drink and even though he couldn't get drunk he still sipped the bitter liquid and tried to get himself back under control. 

After handing over the drink, Tony continued on and brought them to the side of the bar that was the most private. Where they stood, the side of the bar was nearly hidden by the marble columns of the theater. They stood together sipping from their cocktails, not talking or really sharing anything but the space around them and the music swelling through the room but Steve could feel himself start to mellow and to feel more in control. Tony just stood with him, the man whose time was worth more than any paycheck that Steve could make and yet chose to stand there keeping a broken man like Steve company. 

After a couple more songs, Tony finally broke the silence between them. “How about we get another drink and take this little party to the roof? I heard that you can rig the door open without tripping the fire alarm.” A sly smirk had painted itself on Tony’s face, flirty and ridiculous, but despite that Steve couldn't help but love the suggestion. He had already had a night full of unbelievable things, what was one more new experience going to do?

“Alright,” he replied with a small smile back at Tony. “But don’t think you are going to get away without telling me how you know about this door’s malfunction.” Tony's smirk only grew as he took the final sip of the dark liquid in his cup. “You stay here and I’ll get us some more refreshments and come up with a better explanation than the truth to that question,” he replied. Once again Steve was shocked into laughing; the man in front of him was full of surprises and Steve couldn't wait to hear his story. 

But their rendezvous on the roof was not to be. Just as Tony had made his way around to the front of the bar ordering their next round of drinks and caught Steve’s eye again, an angry blonde stepped between their line of sight. From just over a dozen feet away, Steve could see the emotions crashing across Tony’s face and watched as the kind man he wanted to get to know more turned as cold as ice. Steve didn’t know what were in the photographs but he knew they weren’t good, they were damning enough for Tony to turn tail and storm out of the Gala without a single look back. It took only a second for Steve to react, taking quick steps reaching the woman who confronted Tony and they both sprinted out behind him. 

Steve knew he must have looked like a crazy man but something was wrong, Tony was wrong. Steve and the other woman both made it through the door at the same time to be blinded by a sea of flashing lights. The crowd and the flashing stopped Steve short and he had to block his eyes before he he could continue in his pursuit. The serum had done so much good but his sensitivity to light was astounding. 

When he finally cleared the light spots from his eyes and caught sight of Tony it was to see a look of anger and something like betrayal flashing across his face. He was standing just inches away from the SI Vice President Obadiah Stane. Where Tony had anger etched across his face the other man had a sly smile and seemed to ooze insincerity. The other man pulled Tony close and whispered something in his ear as Steve watched from the steps above, turning them both towards the cameras once more. Steve couldn't stop the chill that went down his spine.

In the next second Obadiah released Tony and walked into the crowd of reporters and Tony was left in his wake looking stunned and lost before he walked away and got into his black Audi, driving away with a roar and not looking back. Steve was left standing alone in the sea of people with the unnamed woman at his elbow with a pain in his chest and so many questions left unanswered.


	3. Iron Soldier And The Nomad

Three days after the gala, found Steve barely finding a moment to breathe or think. Within hours of the unexpected ending to the gala and being left on the steps of the theater with more questions than answers, an 0-8-4 was reported wreaking havoc on a terrorist cell called the Ten Rings. Without hesitation or following any official orders, the 0-8-4 had demolished an entire regiment in minutes then out flanked two F-22 raptors in a dogfight over a no fly zone and disappeared. Everyone involved was left baffled, Steve and the other SHIELD agents had been ordered to analyze every scrap of footage and eyewitness accounts to identify the rogue pilot. 

Steve was under the impression that it had been a fluke or a freak weapons malfunction that had destroyed the entire weapons depot in Afghanistan. That maybe a rebel band of freedom fighters had gotten a lucky shot, but after he seeing the footage he was astounded. The pilot, because it had to be a pilot--no unmanned aircraft or droid could move like that--had fought with a sense of grace and determination. Moving like a trained dancer and with aerial marksmanship all at the same time. 

The suit was a work of art wrapped around a mad man on a mission. Steve had never seen something move so fluidly and deadly. The man within the machine had shown mercy and retribution within the span of a second. Steve was in awe of the masterpiece of metal and man he was viewing in the grainy cell phone footage and then again at the swift flight and elegance captured in the footage from the satellite feed. 

Who ever was in that suit might have the right idea. They answered to no one, fought for those who couldn't fight for themselves. If Steve was reading his actions correctly, this pilot didnt like a bully and fought to liberate the oppressed. Or maybe he was just looking for a payday somewhere, but the way he moved made this attack seem personal. He didn't take the leader into custody, he didn’t kill with prejudice, he saved anyone he could and allowed them to seek their own justice against the man responsible for their misery. To Steve that seemed personal, a call to action and more than just a job. 

Over the past few days Steve had been out on assignment visiting every major weapons developer and tech company on the east coast, most had nothing to offer. Coulson had a scheduled meeting at Stark industries at 7 and Steve drew the short straw and had to meet with Justin Hammer who spent two hours boasting about his accomplishments and wasting Steve’s time. The man flourished and bragged like he was a peacock in heat. Hammer almost made Steve reconsider the position at shield, had made him reconsider getting out of bed this morning more than anything. 

Steve never found the knack for diplomacy like Coulson had tried to teach him; at least on the battlefield he didn't have to play nice and stroke the people's egos for information. But Steve didn't want to be the fist anymore, he couldn't be the face on the front of every newspaper and he didn't want to lie to the masses anymore. The lie, though beneficial, at the time was still a lie and Steve was tired of the facade of always having to act like everything was alright. It wasn't, maybe it wouldn't ever be. He just wished there was another way, a third option outside of the suit and tie or the suit of red white and blue. He was no longer Captain America, he didn't think he could ever be again, but with every word out of Hammer’s pompous mouth he wished for the rush of battle. After two hours of misery he finally made his escape. 

Walking out of Hammer Industries, Steve’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of old elevator music coming from his pocket. Steve took a moment to listen to the soft tune, stretching his neck and soaking in the last rays of sunlight of the day. He let himself soak in the memories that kept his heart ice cold, remembering the hour spent at Coney Island sitting in the hot sun with Bucky by his side. 

After taking a deep breath, and feeling the warm breeze and bright sun push away the cold dark memories, Steve reached for the phone.   
“Rogers here,” he answered with a crisp tone. Coulson’s voice came through the phone muffled but the instructions were clear. “I need you back at headquarters immediately, there's something going on at Stark industries.” Hearing the other man's rushed tone, Steve took the steps down to the parking lot at a sprint. “Sir, if there was an incident wouldn't you prefer me to be on scene at SI?” he responded as he reached reached the unmarked SUV and grasped the handle.  
“No. I need you back at headquarters. The strike team has gear ready for you there.” Turning on the car and throwing it in reverse, Steve tried not to react to the news and to the worry that was starting to course through him. The anxiety of something so threatening going down that Coulson had agreed to enact the non combat clause.

“Yes Sir,” he responded, “ETA 15 min.” And he hung up the phone and started driving with his thoughts brimming. 

 

\-------- 

Putting on the suit was surreal. It wasn't the standard suit, and it wasn't the pin striped hell that Coulson made him wear. This suit was a mix of the stealth gear the SHIELD team wore and a bit of Coulson flare. Steve thinks the other man took great pleasure in designing this outfit without Steve’s knowledge; the man probably had sketches rimmed in hearts packed away with the trading card Steve isn't supposed to know about.

But the suit, the suit was unlike anything Steve had ever worn before. The black combat fatigues were lined with Kevlar and moved so differently from the stiff leather he wore before. The fabric fit him like a glove, moved when he moved and breathed better than the suit and tie he was slowly getting used to. Black boots tied up the calf's, black pants padded and lined with pockets and straps for any ammunition or tools he may need. The top was the one thing that resembled his old suit most, a pleated armor surrounding his waist and protecting all of his vital organs, across his pecs and shoulders were armor lined and fitted a SHIELD patch attached with Velcro on his arm, three quarter sleeves reaching to mid forearm were lined with tight fitted loops and across his shoulders a dark brown harness. He would carry no weapon offensive or defensive, for the first time not carrying the vibranium shield he built his reputation behind. Steve wasn't Captain America anymore, and like he felt like he may never be again. The suit held no color, not a trace of the familiar red white and blue, not a star or insignia to set him apart.

Steve spent a long second staring down at the uniform, at the commitment he was making by putting it on. It was a surreal and a lot scary but it felt like the right thing. Steve wasn't sure that he wanted to be shields guard dog but he knew he couldn't hide behind the tie and pleasantries anymore. Just like he had been thinking for a while, he knew he had to keep fighting because the bullies couldn't win. 

The briefing had been quick; Steve didn't even have to hear it all before he was ready to get back into the fight. Just the name and he was hooked. Stark had been on his mind for months, the first person who had made him feel like maybe it all was worth it, the man who had everything and could do anything but he chose to do good. Stark was a man who saw his own faults, admitted it publicly and was doing everything in his power to fix them, even as the world reviled him for it. Steve should have known that Obadiah Stane was bad news. Where Steve saw Tony as a breath of fresh air, Stane was the water so cold in the arctic that overcame him. And to hear that man was not only was he involved in black market weapon deals, twisting Stark Industries into quasi war mongering facility but also was responsible for Tony’s capture and torture in Afghanistan. 

The anger that burned inside of Steve pushed him through the apprehension and second thoughts of returning to the armor. But with every buckled strapped Steve's focus came back, shrugging on the harness he felt his shoulder straighten for what seemed like the first time since leaving the ice. The brown gloves left over from the ice were unyielding so he traded them out for fingerless gloves, some relic he found in the box SHIELD had given him of leftovers from the Commandos. The leather smelled of gun power, soft and worn thin in places but perfect for what he needed them to do. 

Now fully dressed Steve turned to the full length mirror across from the lockers. The man staring back at him could have been a stranger to all of the men he fought with before. His short blonde hair was now grown long, darkened with length and not the perfect gelled coiffed from before. No one wanted to take a picture with a random man with nothing special to name, Steve had allowed himself to relax in his appearance since he woke up. He rubbed his strong fingers through the beard on his cheeks, appreciating the sense of anonymity it gave him. He had never been able to grow out his facial hair before the serum and after he was the property of the US government, and they expected a clean cut hero. The man standing here now was self made, yes he still held the serum in his veins but he made his own decisions and would fight for his own beliefs. 

As Steve was centering himself he was shocked out of his reverie by Coulson calling out to him and pushing through the locker room door. “It's time Rogers. Stane is in the wind and Stark might be tied up in all of this.” Coulson spoke with a slight frown marring his face. Steve had been around the man enough to be able to read the tension in his actions. Rolling his shoulders and pushing his hair out of his face, he turned without a word and followed the other man through the halls reaching four other SHIELD agents and Tony’s personal assistant Ms. Potts. She seemed to be carrying more stress than any CEO or General he had ever met, typing away on her phone seemingly unaware of the force amassing around her. 

Just standing in her presence Steve could see her radiating grace and power. Finishing up with whatever she was typing, Ms. Potts turned and caught Steve’s eye. He could see a hint of recognition, and he dipped his head. “Ma’am, I'm Agent Rogers, could you please follow Agent Coulson and myself to the car and brief us on the ride over.” 

This seemed to snap Ms. Potts out of her daze; there was work to be done and she was never one to let her concentration slip. Turning and striding off she started talking, crisp and clear directions and explanations. Briefly she lost her composure as she called a Colonel Rhodes; Coulson quickly informed him that Rhodes was a colonel in the air force, highly respected best friend of Tony Stark and SI liaison. The man was en route to Tony’s Malibu home after a suspiciously unanswered call made after Ms. Potts’ run-in with Obadiah Stane just an hour before. 

Steve felt the cold stab of ice in his chest. The thought that maybe Stark was in more danger made his heart stutter and he almost lost his footing. The ride to SI was one of the longest rides of his life. Even though they were using Pepper’s short cut and speeding faster than would be advised, Steve still felt like it took too long. He just wanted to go to Stark, wanted to hear he was safe, and the fact he couldn't get to him, wouldn't even know where to look in the first place and that he had a duty to SHIELD was frustrating and so confusing to him. 

They shared one dance, weren't even in the same room with each other more than twice but just the hour he spent with the other man was carved into Steve's soul. He never thought he could feel this way again, wasn't even sure he could feel anything but anger and betrayal since he came out of the ice but the presence of the dread and fear for another individual was like a confusing balm. He was so happy he could feel, that he wasn't broken, but he almost wished he couldn't feel it at all because he needed to be in the soldier mindset. 

Pulling into the near empty parking lot of SI with squealing tires, Steve and Coulson were already sliding out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop. The other SHIELD agents weren’t far behind as Pepper sprinted to the front of the group, swiping her access card and leading the agents through the lab. The lab was empty around them, the dark shadows gave an eerie impression that someone was there staring back at you and even Steve's advanced vision couldn't see the end of the darkness in some places. 

Coulson gave the silent order to spread out and Steve searched through the darkness working to keep Pepper in his sights with every step they took. They should not have never let her come in, but she knew the facilities layout and in their rush to arrest Stane they had only gotten a rudimentary breakdown of the buildings. She was a liability, but in the short span of time he knew her, Steve could see she had a solid head on her shoulders--she gave off an air of confidence and self preservation. Every step she took and every move she made was calm and calculated; she was a marvel, and Steve would do anything in his power to keep her out of harm's way. 

Turning a corner they found a crude metal suit that set off warning bells in Steve's mind--the shape of the face plate and the craftsmanship was not dissimilar to the object he had been studying the past few days. This suit was a crude copy of the one he knew, perhaps a cheap knock off design. Stane must have gotten a hold of footage of the marvel that took down the weapons depot earlier in the week, made a copy. 

Hearing the rattle of chains from behind him, Steve stopped suddenly, turning for just a second and taking his eyes off of Pepper; in the next moment pure pandemonium struck. He heard the whirring of hydraulics and the clicking of metal; suddenly he heard Pepper release a deafening scream and Steve was struck from the side. He was hit so hard that he was thrown through the chains he had turned to just moments before and slammed into the wall behind them. He slid down the wall with a painful thump and could feel the chains wrapped around his body holding him awkwardly in place and causing him to struggle to get free. 

Fighting with the bindings, Steve tried to get free when he got his first glimpse of the monstrous metal man that had been hiding in the shadows. It seemed to curl out from itself and grew to immense proportions completely dwarfing Pepper as she backed away from it then turned and ran. Around him the other agents pulled their guns on the hulking armor but every shot ricocheted around the room as the metal man that was Obadiah Stane started to chase Pepper through the lab tossing equipment and people like they weighed nothing. Steve saw Coulson fly through the air landing across the room and he prayed the other man was able to get up from the hit. 

It was at the sight of Pepper making it to the door and the metal beast attempting to force itself through a to small door to follow that Steve redoubled his effort to get free from the chains he was tossed unceremoniously through. 

\----------

Tony could see the fight that was raging at Stark Industries almost clear as day in the HUD but just couldn't seem to get there. The antiquated arc reactor caused decreased power and he couldn't fly as fast as he needed and all of the systems were a second slower and sluggish. He could see Pepper, could hear her voice though the phone and saw the danger sprouting from the ground behind her before she could even swing around to see it for herself. He was screaming at JARVIS to up the thrust capacity to do anything he could to cut just a few precious seconds to get to her but he knew no matter what happened he was going to be too late. Obe was too close and she was trapped between the monstrous suit and the nearly destroyed lab behind her, she was trapped. The thrusters shuddered and his ravaged body could feel it clear down to his bones; he tried to ignore the pain and the fatigue setting in, but every second was a new agony. 

He watched as Stane breached the ground and reached out his monstrous hands for the petite woman in front of him and Tony screamed for her to move. Before he could even finish the words, a streak of black and the silhouette of a man in tactical gear pushed Pepper out of the way and grabbed the metallic hands, holding them and straining to keep them from attacking. Tony was stunned. It didn't seem possible for any man of flesh and blood to withstand the power of something like what Obediah had created, but the proof was right in front of him.

As they struggled in front of him, Tony continued to push the Mack 2 as hard as he could. Tony watched as the man and machine turned in their fight, allowing the man in tactical gear to be revealed. “Steve?” Tony gasped out, with the appearance of the man who had been stuck in his mind for days and the chaos that surrounded him, Tony was finally almost in striking distance of the metal monster. He had almost full weapon capability but he couldn't take the chance of hitting Steve, who was entangled with Obadiah now, so he did the only thing he could think of. Screaming at the top of his lungs and projecting his voice, he barreled into the side of the other suit causing them both to explode through the lab and the barrier wall tumbling into oncoming traffic.

\----------

Steve never even saw the other suit coming; one second he was locked in place with the hulking metallic mass, muscles burning and fighting with all of his might to force the arms from their striking position, and the next a crash and Stane was ripped from his grasp. He didn't even realize what had happened or what had hit them until he heard Pepper screaming Tony’s name and running for the gaping hole in the pavement. Running on instinct alone, Steve ran for the woman, grasped her around the waist and pulled her back from the edge, and caught sight of the red and gold suit tangled with the larger silver monstrosity as it crashed through the wall of the lab and into the city beyond it. 

And then it clicked: the 0-8-4 from the deserts of Afghanistan, the weapons depot that was full of stolen Stark tech and the meticulous destruction and rescue of the refugees wasn't done by a terrorist or a tech company but by a man driven to the edge and seeking justice and reformation. The sleek weapon that wasn't an unmanned UAV but an unbelievable manned suit created and piloted by Howard’s son. 

But Steve didn't have time to reflect on that, didn't have time to react. All of his senses were coming alive like he had never left the battlefield of WWII and the adrenaline pushed him to secure the area and continue the fight. Turning to the woman still clutched in his arms, he released her in the direction of the tank across the lot. “Ms. Potts, I need you to hide, and if you get the chance, you need to run. That thing could come back and you don't want to be here when he starts looking for you again,” he instructed. Dazed and panicked, she looked up to him nodding and started talking almost faster than he could comprehend. She demanded he get Tony, that they not hurt Tony, and that he was in the suit as she turned and sprinted to safety. 

His first objective was to get her to safety and as he saw her tuck herself behind the metal shield, he took a step back and jumped down into the pit left behind by Tony and Obadiah's crash. He could hear the sounds of shrieking metal, some sort of cannon blast and the screams of civilians and car tires. He needed to see if he could get through the lab, find the rest of his team and get the civilians to safety. Hopefully the suit Tony was wearing would be able to contain or stop the hulking figure of Obadiah Stane; if not, he wasn't sure what they would do, but in the meantime all he could do was to try to get as many people out of the way of the mayhem as he could. 

Rushing into the building, he ran past the arc reactor, back into the chaos of sector sixteen and started to pick his way through the rubble to Coulson. The room was nearly destroyed. The original suit lay in pieces scattered under the partially hanging walkway. All around the room was small fires and upturned workstations. Steve headed in the direction he had seen Coulson thrown, knowing that the other man would need to call in backup. When he got there he found the other man with a gash to his temple, unconscious but blessedly still breathing. Steve reached into his coat for the other man's phone and sent the call for reinforcements, then took the man underneath the arms and started pulling him to a more secure location. Coulson wouldn't be able to help in this fight, but Steve wanted to make sure he would live to fight another day. 

After securing Coulson and the other four agents, Steve continued on out of the backroom of sector Sixteen only to run into the Pepper who was supposed to run but instead as in the middle of the mayhem. She was once again yelling into the phone in her ear pressing, running towards the arc reactor pressing buttons as she went. As she saw Steve she just yelled Tony before the glass ceiling above exploded. She shrieked and Steve grabbed her arms, pulling her into his chest and rolled them both out of the way of a glass shard bigger than she was. “Pepper! Pepper what's going on?” He yelled to her over the sound of metal grating against metal and shattering glass. “Tony’s on the roof. I’m blowing the reactor, but Steve,” she said with a panicked shriek, “he has to get off the roof.” Steve could see the fear in her eyes and could hear the panicked breaths she was taking, her entire body was shaking as it clutched at him begging him to help. 

Without a backwards glance Steve ran for the door; eyeing the wall he could see pockmarks from the fight etched into the wall and he began to climb with all of his strength. As he scaled the near ruined side of Stark Industries lab, he could hear the commotion from the fight above. Clearing the top of the roof, he heard Stane in the now open suit yelling to the stranded Tony, the red and gold helmet clutched in the monstrous hands of his bigger suit.

“I never had the taste for this sort of thing, but I must admit, I'm deeply enjoying the suit.” Steve watched the older man crush the helmet in his hand and turn to throw it at where Tony lay when he finally saw his opening. Leaping from his hiding place at the edge of the building, he scaled the towering form and pulled and crushed anything he could get his hands on, but it seemed like before he could even begin, he felt the crushing weight of the metallic monster gripping him tight enough for ribs to crack and he was thrown aside like a rag doll. He wouldn't remember the impact, just the terrified look on Tony’s face, then the blackness that surrounded him. 

When he woke up, it was to screaming and concrete raining down on him, This wasn't his first time with broken ribs, but the shock of agonizing pain almost blinded him. Trying to take a breath to steel himself through the pain and the hell that it would be to dig himself out of the rubble, he listened to the cacophony of sound around him. He could hear Pepper and Tony screaming, the sudden burst of gunfire and rain of glass. Using all of his strength and mental fortitude, Steve bent his legs and braced his knees pushing as hard as he could on the stone wall around him. For an agonizing moment nothing happened, but then the rubble started to shift and collapse around him. Fresh air came pouring into his lungs before the dust continued to explode violently around him. 

After painful moments of struggling, Steve got himself free of the debris in just enough time to hear another explosion and to see the near blinding light of the arc reactor exploding into the sky throwing Tony feet away from Steve and hitting Obadiah's hulking mass straight on. He scrambled on his hands and knees to the unmoving figure in crimson, clutching him to his broken side and rolling them both clear off the roof and clear of the the explosions that happened above. 

As they fell, Steve wrapped himself around Tony, barricading the man half encased in metal from the quickly rising ground. The man already looked so damaged and without the helmet Steve wasn't sure that the other man wouldn't be severely injured by the fall let alone survive. The sound of screaming followed them through the entire fall and the crash of metal under Steve’s back and the weight of Tony almost made him black out again. The pain was searing through him and the breath was ripped straight from his lungs, black spots danced in front of his eyes, but it was the sound of sirens and running feet that pulled him back from the darkness. 

Keeping Tony clutched to his chest he rolled them over until he could see the other mans face, searching for injuries and a sign of life. Reaching out to feel for a pulse Steve stared at the dim light flickering in his chest, hearing the soft thump of a heartbeat that was far too weak but steadily growing as the chest piece flickered to life as well. Steve could almost cry from the relief that burned in him along with that bright light.


	4. Iron Man And The Bodyguard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The finale, short and sweet. Truth's are revealed and finally our boys get some time together.   
> Thank you again to my Captain America Big Bang artist Araydre and my amazing beta Shannon!

The coffee soothed as it went down his still sore throat as Steve sat across from Tony reading twin articles about the fight on the freeway the night before. Pepper was dutifully ignoring Tony as he prattled on about the article while she covered the more obvious wounds on Tony’s face. She had been less than pleased with Steve when he had pulled himself and Tony from the wreckage of a car they had landed on, but after her yelling had stopped, she hugged him with a fierce conviction while he pretended to not see the tears rolling down her face. 

Even though his ribs had mostly healed and the cuts scabbed over, Coulson had still put Steve on a leave of absence so he found himself once again visiting the SI press room. Unlike last time, though, he had a front row seat to what went on behind the curtain. “Iron Man is kind of catchy,” Tony babbled as Pepper ignored him and Steve kept reading. “I mean, it’s not technically accurate. The suit’s a gold-titanium alloy, but it’s kind of evocative, the imagery, anyway.” 

As he said this, Coulson seemed to appear out of nowhere handing over a stack of queue cards. “Here’s your alibi.” Putting down his paper Tony took the cards and Steve could see the look of perplexion on Tony’s face. Shaking his head, Steve smiled and turned back to the paper in front of him. “You were on your yacht,” Coulson continued. “We have port papers that put you in Avalin all night, and sworn statements from 50 of your guests.” Before he could even finish his last word, Steve heard Tony interrupt with a suggestion of his own.  
“See, I was thinking maybe we should say it was just Steve and me, alone on the island.” He heard a sudden gasp from Tony as Pepper ripped the last bandage from his brow while Tony continued to ramble, but Steve knew better than to look up; he didn't even acknowledge Tony with more than a raised eyebrow continuing to read his newspaper.

“Thats what happened.” Coulson finished as if Tony hadn’t interrupted him, “Read it word for word.” Tony took a second to flip through the cards and from the corner of his eye, Steve could see the frown now maring his recently jovial face. “There’s nothing about Stane here.” Tony said looking up to Coulson, the unspoken question plain as day on his face. “Thats being handled,” Coulson answered. “He’s on vacation. Small aircraft have such a poor safety record.” Steve once again heard Tony interrupting Coulson and tried to hide his smirk behind his paper. One thing he had learned working with Coulson for so long was that he hated being interrupted and Tony very well was unaware of all of the ways he was pushing the other man’s buttons. 

“But what about the whole cover story that it's a bodyguard? He’s my... I mean, is that… That’s kind of flimsy, don’t you think?” Steve could hear the uncertainty and the annoyance in Tony’s voice. For as much of a playful facade he was projecting, Steve knew how much this all hard affected him. Knew that there was much more than just physical damage to the man across from him. Obadiah had been almost like a father to Tony, a role model and partner that betrayed him to the very core and almost destroyed his entire legacy. 

With a small nearly indistinguishable huff, Steve heard Coulson’s reply and almost choked on his coffee. “This isn’t my first rodeo, Mr. Stark. Just stick with your cards, the official statement and your bodyguard” Coulson shot a meaningful look in Steve’s direction, “and soon, this will all be behind you.” Steve was in shock but Tony didn't even react to the news, looking down at the cards again like it was old news as Coulson proclaimed his final schedule and left the room with Pepper close behind drilling him with questions. 

Steve sat there for a moment and witnessed the man in front of him calmly reading the cards and taking a drink of his coffee like this was an everyday occurance. Knowing he had only seconds to spare Steve leaned over the table, snatched the cards and cup from Tony’s hand and kissed him gently on his cut lip. For the first time since he met the man, Tony went completely still; for a never ending second, Tony seemed to turn to stone, not moving or reacting--but only for a second. In the next he was pressing back into the kiss hard and biting like his life depended on it. 

The kiss only lasted moments but it was like fire licking against Steve’s soul, with every second the urge to never stop warming himself on the fire that was Tony grew. Pulling way only an inch Steve smiled down at the other man, setting down the coffee cup and placing the cards in Tony’s hand as he gaped. They had no time for kissing, no time for talking and making plans. Leaning back Steve walked around the table to the man still standing a little stunned with a wide grin on his face.   
“You need your jacket and you still have paper in your collar”, Steve said trying to snap Tony back into the present. The had just a minute until they were apparently both expected to be on the stage in front of a national audience and neither should go out looking like they had just been kissed senseless.

Reaching for the jacket, Steve helped Tony shrug into it as Tony finally broke his silence still with the smug grin on his face. “Are we ever going to talk about how you held off a gigantic robot with your bare hands?” Steve without missing a beat turned Tony and straightened his golden tie as he responded.

“Are we ever going to talk about how you had a secret identify and built a robot that you used to fight crime like an avenging hot rod in your basement?” At that, Tony threw back his head and laughed, standing up on his tiptoes to land a searing kiss on the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Touché Steven.”

 

Cocking his head to the side and looking down at Tony’s face Steve decided it was beyond time to come clean. “Actually it's just Steve, Captain Steve Rogers of the Howling Commandos.” He replied looking into Tony’s eyes, silently begging him to understand feeling the blood rush to his cheeks and burning the tips of his ears. For a long second, Tony didn't respond, never looking away from Steve’s gaze and Steve could see the moment that it all clicked into place for him. Heard the stutter in Tony's breathing over the press conference still playing on the tv and the others talking just outside the door. 

Moments went by before Tony reacted, the blank look on his face never changed, but with every word he said, a sense of warm light in his eyes. “You know if I were Iron Man,” he started, “I would have this boyfriend who knew my true identity--a ridiculously huge supersoldier science experiment from the 40’s who was totally behind on the times.” At this point Tony started to smile the open and kind smile Steve remembered from weeks ago at the Gala. “He would be a wreck and would always be worrying that I was going to die but he would be proud of the man I had become. He would be wildly conflicted but would be crazy about me.” Tony finished the smile now beaming up at Steve. 

Reaching out for the other mans tie, Steve pulled him in for a breathtaking kiss then spoke directly against his lips. “Well you know,” laying soft kiss against the other man's lips “if you really were Iron Man,” another small kiss, “your boyfriend wouldn’t stay behind worrying and he already is extremely proud of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This has been an amazing collaboration for the Captain America Big Bang 2018 with the fabulous artist Araydre. Find their amazing artwork at http://araydre.tumblr.com/


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